


The Last Thirty Minutes of Elizabeth Swann

by Juniper200



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl (2003)
Genre: Gen, Nerves, Superstitions, Weddings, pacing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-04
Updated: 2013-09-04
Packaged: 2017-12-25 13:54:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/953884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Juniper200/pseuds/Juniper200
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In half an hour, everything changes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Thirty Minutes of Elizabeth Swann

Elizabeth’s maid guided her to the long mirror, and they surveyed her reflection.

"Unless you can think of something I’ve forgotten, miss, I think you’re ready,” the girl said with an approving glance at her handiwork. “Something old..."

Estrella rechecked the clasp of a sapphire necklace that had belonged to the late Lady Swann, but Elizabeth’s eyes were on the pearls that dressed her hair. Like everything else in that had been in the cave, their age was beyond telling. In any case, they certainly hadn’t been strung yesterday.

"...something new...Are you comfortable in those slippers yet, miss?"

As a matter of fact, her new silk slippers with the kidskin soles were stiff through the instep and pinched her toes, but her mind was still on the pearls. They were new to her, at least. She and Will were barely two weeks home, and she was unused to both the weight of the jewels in her hair and the weight of her memories of the summer’s events, now relegated to a more fitting place in the back of her mind.

"I’d be honored if you’d carry my handkerchief, miss; there’s your something borrowed..." Estrella chattered as she tucked the square of linen up one sleeve, but her mistress heard a different voice.

_One of us might as well profit from this little pleasure cruise. Hold them for me. That Commodore of yours will root through my effects, and I don’t fancy financing his next pirate hunt with my own plunder._ Jack had said it as he removed the ropes of pearls from around his neck and pressed them into her hands, just before they’d been taken aboard the Dauntless. _Besides, I’ll want them again some day. Keep them safe._

She had every intention of giving them back when he asked for them, of course. But it would be just as well if it was a while before he asked.

"...and I daresay you have the something blue well in hand."

Estrella meant the wedding dress – it was the blue of the sea out past the mouth of the harbor – but Elizabeth tilted the pier glass and inclined her head to better examine the single strand of black pearls woven amongst the white. They shone more blue than black, she mused. A truly black pearl could hide quite safely amongst the jet mourning jewelry nestled in the box on her dressing table.

She shook her head to banish the errant thought. If ever there were a day not to mourn!

"Now, miss, if you’ll just lift your foot for a moment...there. A silver sixpence in your shoe and it’s off to the church."

Ah, the sixpence. That was a problem. She’d taken the rest of Estrella's ritual in stride, having been on the receiving end of enough screeds on the nature of luck from Mister Gibbs that she took most superstitions with a whole cellar of salt. But there was always an outside chance that some truth lay behind the simple protections. She’d seen enough that year to know better than to discount every myth.

It was just that the sixpence rubbed against the ball of her foot so. The pacing was just practice to keep herself from limping down the aisle, she told herself as she shrugged away Estrella's attentions and began another lap around her dressing room.

Will Turner had fought his way through hell and high water to save her, and a match with him promised to rescue her from the monotony of the life that had been planned for her. He was the best of all worlds -- pragmatism and piracy; blacksmith and buccaneer -- in one man.

A man she was going to marry at three o’clock.

Marry. Until that morning, the very word had sent a little thrill down her spine. Now it left a cold ache in the pit of her stomach. Will could one foot in respectablity and the other in lawlessness, but could she straddle both worlds? She had no pirate ancestors on which to blame her roguish tendencies. Would changing her name from Swann to Turner really change anything about her life?

_Two-thirty. If I lock Estrella in the wardrobe and climb down the trellis, I can be at the harbor before the organist sorts out the sheet music_ , she thought.

Occupied by her sudden misgivings and intent on her path across the floor, she jolted with surprise at her father’s hand on her elbow.

"You’ll wear the floorboards through, my dear," he said, holding her gently by the shoulders to keep her still.

"The floor will hold," she said, blushing. "I was simply-"

"Nervous? Yes, I understand that’s quite common among brides," Swann said with mock gravity. "If you’ll come downstairs, perhaps the carriage can quench your thirst for motion." He shepherded her toward the landing.

"Must we go now? They can hardy begin without me," Elizabeth protested, but once set on the path to her fate, there was no going back, unless she planned on squirming out of her father’s grasp and hiding behind the parlor curtains, as she had as small girl running from her Sunday bath.

The ride through Port Royal was numbing. _The next time I enter this house,_ she thought, _I won’t be Miss Swann. The next time I ride past the milliner's shop, I’ll be Mistress Turner. When I get back in the carriage, there won’t be any Elizabeth anymore. When I leave this church, there will only be Mrs. William Turner._

But when she started down the nave on her father’s arm and saw Will waiting at the altar, trepidation, excitement and sheer besotted love fighting for primacy on his face, a wave of calm washed over her.

_For heaven’s sake, it’s only Will,_ she thought. _What have you been so afraid of?_


End file.
